


The Heart Never Forgets

by MoonlightFable



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Amnesia, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Dáin Ironfoot Appreciation Society, F/M, Gen, Hurt Bilbo Baggins, M/M, Pregnant Bilbo Baggins, Seriously why does everyone think he's evil?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 12:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21731449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonlightFable/pseuds/MoonlightFable
Summary: "I remember your hands wrapped around my neck Thorin, I remember you cursing me for my betrayal and threatening to toss me to my death... I just don't remember how I managed to survive."Bilbo is injured and loses his memory of the battle, believing Thorin responsible he flees with the help of his children where he learns he is carrying Thorin's child. Meanwhile, the whole mountain believes he is dead.Cue Gandalf set on putting things right.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Glóin/Glóin's Wife
Comments: 23
Kudos: 161





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This story belonged to a friend who unfortunately passed before she could finish it, I don't know how often I'll be able to update but I will try to keep it consistent.

Bilbo woke to pain. His face hurt; he couldn’t even open his left eye, his knees hurt, his hands… oh, Yavanna his hands! He did not need to be a healer to know they were thoroughly broken… but why? The last thing he remembered was the Arkenstone and Thorin’s hand around his neck and… and then nothing.

_ He has weighed the value of your life and found it worth nothing!_

Hot tears stung his face as he fought back the pain in his heart. Thorin had rejected him; his One wanted him dead. A Hobbit needed his hands to garden, to cook, to work… to _live_; to break one’s hands was akin to wishing them death.

What about the others? Did they wish him dead too? Dwarves were so impatient; would they simply kill him outright or leave him to starve to death? Bilbo still clearly remembered the one time in his life a Hobbit was punished in such a way, and though he hated him for what he did to his father, he still felt sick knowing how much he suffered before dying.

He needed to leave, he needed to get back to the Shire, he needed to…

“Bilbo?!”

The Hobbit would have jumped off the bed if not for the swift hands of Gandalf the Grey, The old wizard still much larger than him even as he kneeled. Behind him was Bard the Bowman and King Thranduil, both looking even more exhausted than the last time he saw them. Had they managed to talk some sense into Thorin? Was he finally going to fulfill his promises to the Lake-Men and Elves?

“Who did this?” he demanded, keen eyes scanning over Bilbo’s injuries. He probably looked as terrible as he felt, but at least he had a distraction from his aching heart.

“Can’t remember…” Bilbo hiccupped. “Thorin was strangling me and then… I can’t remember.”

“Oh, Bilbo,” Gandalf sighed sadly.

“How… how bad is it?” Bilbo asked, grateful when Gandalf offered him some water.

“Most of the damage was focused on your face,” replied the Elvenking, walking around the wizard to get closer to the bed. He carefully lifted the mostly dried rag that Bilbo did not notice was on his eye and winced; the area was still very swollen and discolored in dark purples and blues. “You also have several cuts on your knees and your hands have been broken.”

“Broken?” Gandalf gasped, as the self-proclaimed expert on Hobbits he would know what that meant. “Oh, dear…”

Bilbo just nodded solemnly. He didn’t want to think about how Thor- the King Under The Mountain thought about him now that he destroyed his trust. He didn’t want to start crying again in front of everyone.

He just wanted to go home while he was still able to; his children were probably terrorizing the Shire right that very instant! Maybe if he was lucky he’d make it back by winter and then they’d decorate his smial with spices and flowers and a great big tree and come spring maybe he’d visit Rivendell with his daughters and he’d be perfectly happy again.

He jumped when a fresh cloth was placed over his face, it was slightly cool and smelt faintly of green tea which was a soothing relief, maybe he’d send the Elvenking some of Grandma Adamanta’s rum cake, and he’d even add extra rum, just for him.

But he still needed to get back home first…

“Gandalf…” the old wizard hummed to show he was listening. “I think it’s best if I went home.”

Gandalf said nothing at first, simply staring at his friend as if trying to read his mind.

“Are you sure?” he asked finally. “I do believe the others would at least like to see you off.”

A wave of panic erupted inside Bilbo’s stomach. What if they tried to stop him from leaving? What if they felt he should be further punished for his crime? Trying to sound calm and failing by the looks he was receiving he informed him that wasn’t a good idea.

“I don’t believe I’m wanted here anymore,” he said fighting back fresh tears when another ache throbbed through his chest. “And I miss my girls, Gandalf.”

“… If that is what you wish then,” Gandalf rose, Bard and Thranduil followed him out, and suddenly Bilbo found himself alone.

********

“Why are we cleaning out a room for Bilbo again?” Nori complained as he continued to scrub the many years worth of grime off the windows – one of the few rooms in Erebor with windows and a door leading out to a small balcony that could easily be turned into a small garden. “He’s Thorin’s One; I know it, Mahâl knows it, Gandalf definitely knows it. He’ll be sleeping in the royal chambers in no time anyway.”

“Because if Thorin knows what’s good for him, he’ll court Bilbo like a proper Dwarf,” Balin said, going over his list of things they needed for their Hobbit besides food – lots and lots of food, how could Gandalf let them practically starve Bilbo? “Especially after the battlements.”

“Thorin better be ready to grovel,” Dwalin said, lifting a newly restored dresser with Bifur. “Bilbo is too soft to let him do it for long but he better do it anyway.”

Bifur said something in Khuzdul that sounded like an agreement.

“Balin,” Dori entered; two pieces of fabric in each hand. “What color should Bilbo’s bed linens be? Ori and I can’t decide; red or blue?” He held up a square of each colored fabric to demonstrate.

The old Dwarf paused in thinking. “Red is too much like fire, make it blue,” he said finally before an idea struck him, a very wicked idea. “Durin Blue if you can, Dori.”

********

_The Shire was burning… the foul smell of burning flesh assaulted Bilbo’s senses as he ran through the blazing streets to his house. How could this happen? Where were the Bounders, the Rangers?_

_ “Ada…”_

_ No…_

_ “Ada…” Losiel laid prune on the ground staring at him, her clothes in tatters and blood oozing from places he refused to think about. Avalon’s headless corpse was not far away but her head was nowhere to be seen._

_ “Why did you leave us, Ada? Why did you choose him over us?”_

_ A giant red eye morphed into a familiar Dwarf, except Bilbo could never remember him looking so murderous except when…_

_ “Traitor.” Thorin snarled as he lifted him in the air by his neck, he raised his axe and was about to strike._

Bilbo startled awake, the smell of burnt flesh and blood still in his mind. He took several deep breaths and shook the remains of his nightmare out of his head, taking an odd sense of relief in the pain that resulted.

“Master Baggins?” Legolas spoke softly, the moonlight peaking through the curtains and glimmering off of his hair.

“Just a terrible dream…” Bilbo muttered, laying his head back down onto the cot. He gladly accepted the new tea cloth from the Elf Prince. “What brings you to this broken Hobbit’s bedside, Prince Legolas?”

“You are far from broken, Master Baggins,” Legolas told him. “And I was visiting Tauriel when I heard you in distress.”

Bilbo tried to put a face to the name and had a blurry vision of red hair against green armor. “Forgive me, my head is still fuzzy. Tauriel is the Elf Captain, correct?”

“Yes. She was my friend and I hoped we could be more despite not being each other’s One,” a moment of hurt flash across Legolas’ face. “She had fallen in battle defending the one she truly loved.”

“I am truly sorry; I hope she can defend her home in death as she did in life.”

“How can she do that, Master Baggins?”

“Well,” Bilbo thought about it for a minute. “Hobbits believe that if we lived a good life, our family and friends gather to remember us, and we are welcomed by Yavanna into the Hall of Waiting while our bodies are buried to become one with the soil, enriching it and allowing new life to grow. In fact, back home we have this field with a tree we call the Party Tree, biggest tree in all of the Shire; a lot of Hobbits are buried there, and it’s said that they are the reason it is so big.”

“Truly?” Legolas asked with interest.

“I think I should have seeds from a healing plant in my bag, I was going to plant them in my garden for one of my daughters but I think Lady Tauriel would benefit from them more.”

Bilbo made to reach for his coat that was placed on the chair beside him only his hands ached greatly and, noticing his wince; Legolas grabbed it himself and reached into one of the pockets and pulled out a small bag full of seeds.

“I believe Losiel called them Sun Drops and the flowers can be made into a remarkable healing tea,” Bilbo explained.

“Thank you, Master Baggins,” he carefully placed the coat back on the chair. “Have a pleasant rest; I believe Gandalf intends to leave by morning.”

Legolas made his exit staring curiously at the small bag in his hands, he did not recognize the seeds that smelled faintly of something he could only describe as summer when he was a child. With his focus on his gift, he failed to notice the Dwarf watching him leave Bilbo’s tent.

********

Bofur had managed to sneak away from the mountain without any of the others noticing. Not that he couldn’t leave anytime he wanted mind you, he just didn’t want to cause Bilbo stress and having ten Dwarves surround you when you are as injured as he was would be very stressful, so no he decided to visit Bilbo alone. The others could see him when he moved into the room they were almost done with.

The simple miner couldn’t wait to show it to Bilbo, he made sure they decorated it very Hobbity from what he remembered of his friend’s cozy home, there was even an area set aside for his books with a desk that only had some rot in the legs but he and Bifur carved all that out and made it look like tree trunks. And really the sooner Bilbo moves into the mountain the better Bofur’s nerves will be.

What was the world coming to? He was coming to fetch his friend because it was dark and cold and he knew the silly Hobbit would think he wasn’t welcomed back into the mountain which was ridiculous, and he came upon him getting stomped on like a bug right outside Thorin’s tent! The bastard is just lucky his majesty wasn’t expected to wake up any time soon.

There was no light coming from inside the tent… perhaps Bilbo was still sleeping and Gandalf preferred to wait in darkness? but he has been sleeping for so long already surely he should’ve woken up by now? Or were his injuries bad enough sleep was preferable? Bofur would take a quick peek, just to check before he let him continue resting.

The tent was colder inside than outside, and several Dwarves lay unconscious, one was even frozen with his axe raised mid-swing!

Bilbo was not there sleeping in what he hoped was a painless sleep. Before he allowed himself to panic, Bofur thought that perhaps he mistakenly entered the wrong tent, it certainly wouldn’t be impossible as caught up in his head he was, so he left and glanced into the one beside it. Inside laying on the bed with a sheet draped over her body was an Elf, the very Elf Kíli was so interested in despite a fool being able to see she wasn’t his One, but Bofur had no grudge against her; she sacrificed herself protecting the youngest prince.

But he did know she was supposed to be on Bilbo’s left, easy for the Elvenking to venture back and forth, subtly insulting her foolishness while simultaneously ensuring her remains would be brought back home for a proper ceremony. _What do Elves do with their deceased?_ Bofur wondered. Did they bury them? Send them out to sea? He had no time to question it, he needed to find Bilbo. Perhaps he was mistaken and Tauriel was on his right, but the next tent held one of Dáin’s archers. Bilbo was gone.

Bilbo was gone.

“BILBO’S GONE!”

Gandalf felt his blood run cold, and before he knew it he was running towards Bilbo’s tent with the King of Dale right behind him. It couldn’t be, not like this, not to Belladonna’s son. He nearly ran into King Thranduil and Legolas who were also responding to the Dwarf’s distress. Throwing back the curtains he was greeted by a chill, several unconscious Dwarves, a frozen Dwarf, but no Hobbit…

“Oh, Bilbo…”

********

Meanwhile, a horse the color of its owner’s famous winter cocoa was running as fast as it dared with two passengers and an injured Hobbit. Solstice did not like how still his owner was, he was used to the Hobbit being cheerful and petting his mane and promising him apples when they reached their destination, but sitting between the much larger riders he was so quiet and not at all cheery. The Elf riding further back kept him secured while scanning for danger, her bow and arrow ready at a second’s notice while the Woman holding the reins ensured they remained on the path the Elf deemed safe.

Bilbo could hardly breathe; every movement was Dwalin with his axe raised for his head, every shadow was Nori readying to strike, every sound an arrow from Kíli flying through the air. By the time they reached the edge of Mirkwood, he was surprised he hadn’t passed out, at least there were no giant spiders this time.

“It’s so wonderful to see my girls again,” he said holding onto Avalon’s waist for dear life as best as he could given his hands. Between the darkness and his swollen eye, he was basically blind.

“I would have preferred staying at your side Ada,” Losiel told him.

“I second that opinion,” Avalon pitched in and after a moment added. “Especially considering the end result.”

“The next time a wizard comes knocking on my door while you two are away I’ll do much more than shut the door on them,” Bilbo felt a sudden wave of nausea. “I don’t feel so good…”

They barely had time to stop before he nearly fell off vomiting onto the ground. Strange, he couldn’t remember eating anything that would upset his stomach… he could barely remember eating anything at all except for the broth Bard’s youngest daughter had brought him.

“Will you be able to make it to camp, Ada?” Avalon asked. “Or should we settle here?”

“No, no, we need to get as far from the mountain as we can,” the last thing he wanted was Thorin to come after him and hurt his girls, not that they couldn’t hold their own but that dream still haunted his mind.

“I’ll take first watch,” Losiel said.

“No, I’ll take it,” Avalon argued. “You had the last watch!”

“My eyes are better!”

“Your face is better!”

“What?”

“What?”

“Girls,” Bilbo warned, honestly sometimes it was hard to remember they weren’t blood sisters sometimes.

“Sorry, Ada.”

Losiel Avalon Solstice


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company grieves while Bilbo recuperates at Rivendell.

_ Blood red flames lit the night sky as the occupants of the smials and houses screamed, some for help; others for mercy. Evil had reached the Shire. Orcs ran rampaged throughout the streets, slaying and burning all in their path until finally, they reached the last house, Bag End._

_ Avalon fought to protect her home, but she was quickly overcome. Losiel grabbed her and tried to flee but they were surrounded. The leader of the Orcs reached out and grabbed the Elf by her collar and snarled something in his dark tongue that made Losiel’s eyes widen in fear before tossing her to a group of other Orcs and raising his axe to finish off the human. Avalon closed her eyes to prepare for the final blow, however, it never came, and when she opened her eyes the leader no longer had an arm… or head._

_ Quickly, the other Orcs found themselves cut up and slain by an invisible opponent. Only when the last Orc had fallen did the girls see their savior._

_ “Ada?” Losiel asked in awe._

_ Bilbo Baggins turned to his children, happy to see he had reached them in time. All because of one ring… his ring… his precious…_

Bilbo gasped awake and instinctively reached into the pocket of his coat he was using as a pillow, he felt relief at the cold feeling of the ring against his aching fingers. That tiny bauble was more useful than all the gold of the Lonely Mountain, and he needed to keep it safe so that he can use it to keep his family safe.

It took him a moment to notice Avalon shivering in her sleep, either from the cold or her own nightmare he wasn’t sure but he covered her with his own blanket just in case. Scanning for his Elven daughter, he spotted her in a low hanging branch of one of the massive trees surrounding their little camp.

“All is well, Losiel?” he whispered to her.

“A lone spider crawls within a mile of us, I will have to shoot it if it gets much closer,” she told him. “And a strange-looking fellow in brown walks five leagues away towards the edge of the forest.”

“That’s Radagast; we have nothing to fear from him.”

Losiel remained silent for a moment, her pale hair dancing lightly in the breeze, “I feel a great disturbance from the mountain Ada. It would do us well to continue our journey as soon as the sun rises.”

Bilbo shivered, rather from the chilly night air or from what awaited him if he were to get caught by the Dwarves he didn’t know. He returned to his spot beside Avalon and took comfort in the fact she was no longer shaking. A few moments passed and he heard the faint sound of an arrow being released and the distance screech of one of the terrible beasts of the forest. It did not matter what was happening back at that damned mountain, he was safe with his children.

********

The remaining Company of Thorin Oakenshield was in a blind panic. Was Thorin dead? No, neither was Fíli or Kíli, all three were still unconscious and probably will remain as such for a while but Óin was optimistic they would pull through. Was there another dragon threatening to take the mountain? Nobody was even allowed to joke about that. No, what was wrong was their burglar was missing, and if the Dwarves they interrogated were to be trusted – Dwalin was skeptical – something sinister had been brewing behind their backs.

Wanted dead for treason? Bilbo?! Did these idiots not realize they wouldn’t have a home if not for that fussy little Hobbit? And now he was gone, gone and potentially dead and they would never find his remains, never be able to bring him justice, it was more than any of them could bear to think about.

Óin kept to the Healing Halls; preferring to deal with Fíli’s fractured leg over the thought of Bilbo’s tough, hairy feet being frozen black with frostbite. He preferred ensuring Kíli and Thorin continued to breathe instead of imagining their Hobbit having his last breath taken from him.

When he wasn’t overseeing restorations and trying to keep order, Balin liked to sit and watch over his king in the Healing Halls. The ever steadying rise and fall of his chest kept him sane and reminded him that it wasn’t all for nothing, that he wasn’t going to have to sit Dís down and tell her what remained of her family were no more. Sometimes though, he would glance at the little mark just over Thorin’s heart, a mark he had seen only once on someone else.

Unlike his brother, Dwalin was not a fan of keeping still. When he wasn’t sleeping the few hours he let himself sleep with the royal family defenseless, he was patrolling and keeping guard over the Healing Halls. Because keeping still meant thinking, and thinking meant realizing how much he failed. If he had been stronger, if he had slapped some sense into Thorin, if he had just seen the trap the Orcs had laid out… maybe their burglar wouldn’t have had to pay the price.

Nori did not like feeling useless, but there was not much for a former thief to do. He could not find anything on who wanted Bilbo dead, the captive Dwarves claimed it was Dáin’s orders and to say the Lord of the Iron Hills was insulted would be an understatement. He still stalked the Iron Hill Dwarves in hopes of someone saying something… anything would be better than not knowing.

Glóin sat in front of the fireplace in his chambers, a letter from his wife lay in his lap but he seemed more focused on the flames than its words. Oh, he was happy to hear she and Gimli would be arriving by spring, but his heart ached thinking of someone else’s children. He spent many nights talking with Bilbo about their families and knew how much he missed his two daughters – not his by blood but his all the same – and imagined them waiting for their beloved father who would never return home.

Bofur seemed to have taken it the hardest; he ate only when Bombur threatened to force-feed him, he worked until Bifur dragged him away, and drank himself asleep. He would spend many hours just sitting out in the cold hoping for one last miracle, for his friend to appear out of thin air with a tale of how he escaped his captors. Sometimes he would see Ori too, wrapped up in a blanket with a second one in his lap waiting, he knew Dori stayed up late too in hopes of hearing news.

Any news was preferable over silence.

********

They were in Mirkwood for a week as Bilbo’s nausea grew worse, it did not matter what it was he would fight to eat it than fight to keep it down as he tried to sleep which was also becoming harder and harder to do. He remembered his mother complaining in her final months that food held no more taste for her but that wasn’t the case for him.

_Its stress_ he told himself. _Or maybe all those months of not eating like a proper Hobbit have caught up to me…_

“Don’t fret Ada,” Avalon told him as he emptied his stomach for the second time that morning. “We’ll head straight for the home of the Elves and learn what ails you.”

“I’m sure Lord Elrond will welcome us, especially since I now travel with much more agreeable company,” Bilbo said, wiping his mouth.

“And I’m sure young Estel will be thrilled to see his new best friend again,” Losiel jested, giving her sister a sly smile.

“Shut up…”

“He thinks you’re pretty~”

“He’s a child; he thinks all girls are pretty.”

As they neared the edge of the forest, Losiel perked up. She could faintly smell apples nearby, perhaps that would help her Ada’s stomach. So she quickly disembarked from Solstice and with a promise to return shortly she followed her nose until she reached a tree not as tall as the surrounding ones that held her prize and as luck would have it, it was free of the giant pests of the forest.

She climbed up and stood on a lower branch as she reached and picked the sweet fruit. She was so preoccupied filling up her small sack she failed to realize she was being watched until she leaped down, feeling a hand on her shoulder she let out a – very dignified – shriek and sent a burst of cold towards her attacker before running as fast as she could towards where she knew her family was waiting for her.

“Sister?” Avalon asked, noticing her wide eyes.

“Nothing to worry about but we must leave now,” she replied, thankfully she hadn’t dropped her apples.

Meanwhile, Legolas was attempting to break away from the layer of ice that held his arm against one of Mirkwood’s apple trees. He did not know who that mysterious Elf was or how she managed such a feat; when he finally freed himself he noticed something silver on the ground near where the strange Elf ran; it was a necklace of a snowflake in the shape of a leaf… identical to the mark he held over his heart.

********

Bilbo felt better just leaving the forest for the bright sunshine; he was even able to keep down an apple. They skipped Beorn’s house – he didn’t want to intrude again so soon – and before he knew it they were approaching the Last Homely House which somehow looked even more beautiful than he remembered.

The guards had apparently seen them approach some distance ago because Lord Elrond was waiting for them.

“Welcome back, Master Baggins,” Elrond said smiling at his guests. “And welcome back Avalon and Losiel, it’s been a while since your last visit.”

“It’s so good to be back, Lord Elrond,” Bilbo smiled.

“Mae l’ovannen, Lord Elrond,” They greeted, bowing to them.

It was then the Elven Lord noticed the Hobbit’s wrapped hands and faded bruises. “If you wish Master Baggins I can escort you to the Healing Halls, after some supper of course.”

“Please do.” His mouth watered at the idea of warm food.

********

After supper, which Bilbo fought to keep down even if it was a simple stew with some freshly baked bread. Elrond led him to the Healing Halls and examined him for the cause of his strange illness.

He had no fever, he admitted to being light-headed when he first stood but that was easily due to lack of nutrients, there didn’t appear to be any signs of an infection or allergic reaction to the pain tonics his children had been giving him – a somewhat common occurrence when taken too frequently – the only physical difference the Elf Lord could see from the last time he saw the Hobbit were his hands and belly… a belly that should definitely not be so rounded.

“Master Baggins,” he started, trying to keep his confusion out of his voice. “Please do not take offense to this question, but you are a _male_ Hobbit, correct?”

“… Last time I checked, yes,” Bilbo narrowed his eyes, what kind of question was that?!

“That is unfortunate Bilbo Baggins, for it seems that you are somehow pregnant.”

Bilbo choked on air.

Losiel’s eyebrows disappeared into her hair.

Avalon’s mouth nearly reached the floor.

Gandalf – who had only just arrived and had no sense of privacy – became a statue.

“What?”

Pregnant? Him? Not possible! He was a gentlehobbit and gentlehobbits cannot carry babes, that honor went to lasses who were equipped with the proper organs for such a thing- HOW WAS HE EVEN SUPPOSED TO DELIVER A BABY?!

“Master Baggins!” “Bilbo!” “Ada!” was all he heard before his world went black.

********

Waking up was the most painful experience Thorin ever felt. His whole body was stiff, his head felt like someone used it as an anvil, and his chest – by Mahâl, his chest! – Every breath felt as if his lungs were filled with molten metal.

But none of it compared to the icy stab to his heart when he laid eyes on his sister-sons, both so still and pale if it were not for the constant rise and fall of their chests he’d think they were dead. It was his fault. His hands may not have been the ones responsible but he brought them here when they were still so young against his sister’s – their own mother’s – wishes.

Dís did not deserve a brother like him, Fíli and Kíli did not deserve an uncle like him, his own kingdom did not deserve a ruler like him. Bilbo… Bilbo did not deserve anything like him…

The darkness reclaimed him before he even knew it, dragging him into a painless sleep.

The second time he woke was only marginally better than the first, partly because he caught Balin during his daily visit. His trusted friend able to ease his nerves about various matters, his nephews would live; though Fíli almost lost a leg and Kíli would have a permanent scar across his neck. Dáin had been acting in his place though he had been eagerly waiting for his cousin to rise despite some members of his court trying to bribe Óin into officially declaring Thorin and his nephews dead, Dwalin had not left his self-appointed post of guarding them since and there wasn’t a Dwarf from the Iron Hills amongst them Nori didn’t know about. The rest of the Company had been keeping busy with restoring the mountain and Dale.

“And what of our burglar?” he asked and oh Mahâl his voice sounded terrible!

“He is… gone,” Balin told him simply.

The darkness reclaimed him forcefully before he could demand to know what he meant by ‘gone’.

********

“So, Bilbo was taken by his own children,” Gandalf mused conversationally as they awkwardly sat around waiting for Bilbo to regain consciousness. “I’m sure the Dwarves will be happy to hear it.”

“I’d rather they not find out honestly,” Avalon told him. “Had we’ve arrived but a moment later Ada would have lost his head. Who knows how many want him dead?”

“Ada was also made unwelcomed amongst the Dwarves of Erebor,” Losiel added, gently caressing Bilbo’s hands. “Quite clearly, if I might add.”

“Bilbo seems to have lost some rather important information from the last battle, no doubt from the head injury he sustained. I’m sure the Dwarves would eagerly wish to clear up this misunderstanding.”

“Then they better come to him, he has suffered enough as is and needs to be home as soon as possible especially with a young one on the way,” Avalon told him firmly.

“And the babe’s other father better be the first to make amends,” Losiel froze a puff of air in her hand before crushing it with ease, Elrond and Gandalf winced in imaginary pain. “For the sake of any future children he wishes to have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mae l’ovannen - Well Met (Formal)


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo sets for the Shire while Gandalf devises a plan.

To say Thorin Oakenshield was angry would be an insulting understatement.

He was enraged beyond all measure and would’ve declared war on his own kind had Balin and Dáin not reason how that would be a bad idea, after all his people could not be faulted for following what they believed were legitimate orders. That, however, did not mean he wouldn’t demand the culprit’s head on a mithril platter.

And he would’ve added the head of the Broadbeam who seemed to think_ now_ was a good time to try and win his hand except that too was a bad idea according to his advisor. So with patience he did not have, he turned her and her gifts away claiming it was not a good time, granted never was going to be a good time. He had already lost his chance at happiness.

“Nori’s gone again,” Dwalin told him. “Bofur’s with him this time; says he remembers seeing light armor so they’re thinking it might have been one of the archers from the Iron Hills.”

Thorin wasn’t even surprised, his cousin admitted some of his council were dishonorable Orc spawn – and those were Dáin’s own words – and many did have family in his armed forces.

The idea of Bilbo being beaten bloody was like a hammer to his heart, the thought of Bilbo being dragged off into the night to die without knowing the love and regret Thorin held was more than he could bear. So he did everything he could to forget for just a moment, he gave Dale their gold and Thranduil his jewels – he didn’t even offer one insult which also made Balin happy – he made sure bellies were fed and his people were kept warm, he wouldn’t be like his grandfather and obsess over the wealth of the mountain. Not again.

_If more of us valued home above gold, the world would be a merrier place_ he would still have his One, had he only realized this sooner…

********

Avalon was on a mission. Her Ada’s condition confirmed – she and Losiel were going to be big sisters! – And she knew Bilbo’s nerves were at their limit so she decided to surprise him with some lavender and jasmine. Her sister would help her but she was busy helping Ada write to the Thain, great grandfather Gerontius would be a big support against the other Hobbit families, particularly the Sackville-Bagginses.

Avalon still fumed thinking about how Lobelia tried claiming Bilbo was dead – less than a week after he was last seen running through the Shire with shouts of adventure – only to learn that even if it was true his estate would go to his children. She still blames that horrible woman for making them wait to follow him just to be told she was never going to see the inside of Bag End.

A rustle alerted her to another presence, and she had watched over enough faunts to know a child’s footsteps anywhere, she also knew the difference between an Elf and a Man.

“Hello, Estel,” she turned to the young boy.

“Hello, Avalon,” he was surprised to have been caught; he thought he was so sneaky just like Elrond’s sons have been teaching him! “Why are you in Elrond’s garden?”

“I’m picking some flowers for my Ada, would you like to help me?”

“Yes!”

********

He was with child, with _Thorin’s_ child. Thorin, who Bilbo loved when he thought he never could; Thorin, whose head he saved from an Orc when they were so outnumbered; Thorin… who threw him aside for his gold, who threatened his life… who wanted him dead.

Should he tell the others? Who would he write to? Balin probably or maybe even Bofur who always treated him like a friend. But no; he was wanted for treason, what if they demanded the child be killed? He was just grateful that Avalon and Losiel refrained from asking questions about the babe’s other father even though he could see it in their eyes how much they wanted to.

He could handle the shame and humiliation from the other Hobbits, he could handle Lobelia’s crude remarks and sneers, but he couldn’t handle his own children thinking any less of him than they probably already did.

_Should have kept your trousers on, weren’t you raised to be a gentlehobbit?_

“Hello,” spoke an unfamiliar voice that made Bilbo let out a – manly – squeak. Ignoring the snickers of his daughter he peeked out from the safety of his covers he met a pair of curious blue-gray eyes attached to a very young face.

“Hello?” why was a child who was clearly not an Elf doing in The Last Homely House?

“I’m Estel,” the boy says, his voice bell-like. “You have pointy ears but you’re not an Elf.”

“No,” Bilbo easily agrees, somewhat amused by the child. “I am a Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, at your service, Estel.”

“What’s a Hobbit?” he asked glancing between him and Avalon. “Is that what the people from Avalon’s home are called?”

Bilbo chuckled at his curiosity and cleared a spot on the bed for him. All children regardless of race enjoyed a good story, and Bilbo prided himself on being one of the best in the Shire.

********

Gandalf paced his room, smoked a few leaves, had a cup of tea that may or may not have been mostly brandy with a hint of tea, and paced some more. It got to a point where the ever composed Lord of Rivendell threatened to throw out his stick if he didn’t start talking about what the matter was.

“We have a Hobbit whom everyone – including myself – thought dead, pregnant with the child of a Dwarf king he thinks assaulted him, said Dwarf being ever the impatient and emotional nincompoop that he is, is probably threatening war against his own people which in turn will lead to them questioning his rule which will then in turn actually lead to war when the other lords try challenging his rule!”

“So I take it you plan on reuniting the two then?” Elrond stated simply, it was the most logical choice after all.

“Easier said than done I’m afraid,” Gandalf sighed in exhaustion, was he truly sent down here to deal with this? “I can’t just force Bilbo to return to Erebor.”

“Then find a reason for Thorin to come to the Shire.”

He needed to talk to the Thain.

********

A letter arrived several days later as Bilbo was enjoying tea in the garden watching Estel braid flowers into a rather flustered Avalon’s dark locks – his Human daughter did not like things that made her stand out – while she mimicked his actions into her sister’s pale hair. He immediately recognized his dear grandfather’s handwriting.

**_Bilbo Baggins of Bag End,_**

** _ First off let me tell you how good it is to hear from you! Your children have been absolutely inconsolable up to their departure and they have been absolutely ruthless towards a certain relative with an obsession with your silverware ever since she said you were probably dead. _ **

** _ Secondly, I’m afraid my mind must be going soft in its old age; you say you are with child? I clearly remember your mother birthing a boy… oh but perhaps there is some truth to those old wives tales about a Took taking a fairy for a wife. No matter, I eagerly welcome any child of yours, and I look forward to the celebrations, speaking of which, please make sure Gandalf gets my letter to him._ **

** _ Gerontius Took._ **

** _ P.S. Adamanta demands your haste return lest she steals a pony and comes to you._ **

Bilbo glanced up to where the wizard stood holding his own letter but thought better than to question it, Gandalf had been friends with Gerontius long before Bilbo was even born, whatever they were doing was none of his business.

“The Old Took is eager for us to return,” Bilbo told his children, happy to have at least some family on his side.

“When do you wish you leave Ada?” Losiel asked, being still as a statue as Avalon weaved daisies into her braid. “The roads have gone quiet as of late.”

“As soon as possible… my hands just need time and truly I just want to see Bag End again.”

Of course, Estel wasn’t happy to hear his friends were leaving again so soon, and Bilbo did feel sorry for the poor boy not having any other children to play with, but with promises to return as well as an invite to come visit – with Lord Elrond’s permission of course – the young lad reluctantly gave up trying to delay their departure.

Gandalf would not be joining them yet, urgent business he claimed, Bilbo was too eager to return home to question it; he was quite done being involved in other people’s business and trusted his friend to tell him of anything important.

“We need to make a little stop on the way, Dears,” Bilbo told his children. If he was going to go back a pregnant Hobbit; he was going to go back a _rich_, pregnant Hobbit. Nobody could say the child wouldn’t have everything it needed.

********

It didn’t take a genius or even a highly observant Dwarf to notice the King running on habit alone. He woke just before the sun every day, bathed in the coldest water he could manage – it helped with the nightmares filled with fire – and dressed in whatever he saw first in his wardrobe before eating breakfast. After that, he would visit Óin about his nephews, Balin for updates on the reconstruction, and then he would spend most of his days pretending to listen to nobles who wanted shit they did not earn before Dwalin would drag him away for a spar that the Captain always won because Thorin just didn’t _care_ anymore.

His Company knew they were losing him, but had no idea what to do. Of course, that was when Gandalf the Grey decided to return.

“Gandalf,” Thorin greeted emptily. “I believed you were traveling to see… _his_ family.”

He couldn’t even say his name anymore.

“I was, and then I received a letter and thought it was only right to share its contents with you and your Company,” Gandalf told him, choosing his words carefully, he needed this to work for the sake of Erebor… and Bilbo.

Thorin nodded his head and without further ado, he pulled out Gerontius’ letter, written exactly as he instructed in case the Dwarf King needed to see its words for himself.

**_I, Gerontius Took, twenty-six Thain of the Shire hereby announce the official celebration of Bilbo Baggins which shall take place on the first day of Yule by the Party Tree south of Bagshot Row. All friends and family are welcome to come pay their respects to the Head of the Baggins family._**

** _ For those traveling outside the Shire, please see Obsidian Took at the Stone Oliphant for appropriate accommodations._ **

“… Are you insinuating we should travel all the back to the Shire for… _his_ memorial?”

“I’m not insinuating anything Thorin Oakenshield, but consider this your only chance to give a proper farewell… and pay respects to his family; you still have his old sword, don’t you?”

Bilbo’s old sword… it broke during their ordeal with the Trolls and Bofur had helped him gather the pieces. Thorin did not understand why the Halfling bothered especially when he found a replacement shortly after. Bilbo forgot it when Thorin almost… when Bilbo was banished. He kept it in a trunk in his chambers.

“That sword belonged to Bungo Baggins, Bilbo’s father,” he gave him a sad, pointed look. “I’m sure his children would appreciate its return.”

Thorin did not know when his feet started moving or even how he managed to get to his room. He could not go… he was a coward and he could not go. He could not bear to look into the faces of Bilbo’s children and tell them that _he_ was the reason they had no father. _Didn’t Bilbo once say they were adopted?_ He had made them orphans twice over. His Company would go, oh he knew that much for sure and Fíli would demand to go despite his legs and Kíli would go if he’d just bloody wake up already and-.

“Irak’Nadad,” Dáin approached him carefully. “What exactly was your relationship with this lad Bilbo?”

“Does it matter?” he spat.

“Yes! You threatened your own people, been a ghost of yourself for the past month, Mahâl’s fucking hammer, Thorin you’re acting just like poor Dís when she lost-” and then it hit him.

“Don’t,” Thorin warned.

“How many know?”

“Balin knew which means Dwalin did too, I never had the chance to tell… to tell _him_ the truth.”

Dáin was silent which was an oddity for the Lord of the Iron Hills. Ever since they were Dwarflings Dáin had always had a comment on the tip of his tongue, it often got them into as much trouble as it got them out of.

“You are going, Cousin,” he finally said and before Thorin could give a retort – probably about duty or some other nonsense – he continued. “And if you don’t you will regret it for the rest of your days. I will not idly stand by and watch you lose yourself Thorin!”

“What would I even say?!” _Hi, I’m Thorin Oakenshield and I am the reason Bilbo is dead?_

“… What would you say if Bilbo stood before you?”

Beg for forgiveness…

********

“Is that Bilbo?”

“He looks terrible!”

“Where did he get all that gold?”

“Did you see his belly?”

“Did you see his _hands_?”

Whispers followed them as soon as they entered the Shire, his daughters choosing to walk beside Solstice to relieve the horse of some burden. Avalon’s glare and Losiel’s disagreeable frown kept any nosey Hobbit’s away but Bilbo wouldn’t be surprised if his neighbors knew of his return before he even made it to Hobbiton, he just hoped his less than agreeable relatives would give him a day to settle before ganging up on him like a pack of wolves.

“BILBO BAGGINS!” of course one could always count of Lobelia to bury that hope deeper than a shrew in the winter. His children moved to shield him from the terrible Hobbit woman.

“COUSIN!” Yavanna must be merciful today; because no sooner had Lobelia gotten within ten feet did another Hobbit jump in front of her.

“Drogo?” his cousin stood cheerfully in front of him, deliberately in the way of Lobelia.

“I hoped to catch you on your way home Bilbo! Old Gerontius put me and Prim in charge of your celebration; can I walk with you for a moment?”

“Excuse me?” Lobelia huffed, angry to be ignored. “What celebration? Bilbo has done nothing worth celebrating, in fact, he and his fake children-”

“Oh, Lobelia!” Drogo turned to her as if just noticing her presence. “You haven’t gotten your invitation yet? Everyone from Needlehole to Buckland will be there; it’s going to be one of the biggest celebrations the Shire has seen in years!”

Bilbo and Lobelia stared at him in shock. Even Avalon and Losiel seemed surprised at the idea of such a large party. What exactly was the Thain planning?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drogo isn't having any of your shit, Lobelia.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo starts to settle back in Bag End and the Dwarves - plus several others - arrive in the Shire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update for Christmas!!!

Kíli was inconsolable.

When he first awoke to his brother’s red and wet face – “What took you so long?!” – And learned that they won the battle and were safe in their new home, he felt like Mahâl had blessed him personally. His family was safe and soon his Amad would be back where she belonged and they wouldn’t have to worry about food or a roof over their heads anymore.

Then he learned that Tauriel was the reason he lived; at the cost of her own life, and he felt sad… because even if the Elf Captain wasn’t his One and he wasn’t hers, she was still his friend who had risked everything for them.

Then he learned about Bilbo… and not even Fíli could talk to him for almost the whole day. Mr. Boggins – he knew it was Baggins but he liked teasing the Hobbit because he would sigh and ruffle his hair like a fun uncle whereas Thorin always had to be the serious uncle – didn’t deserve it. It just wasn’t fair! And to think had he slept for just a few more days he would have been left behind with Óin as the rest made their way back to the Shire for Bilbo’s memorial!

Thorin hadn’t even tried stopping him, only confining him to the caravan that was commissioned for Fíli since he couldn’t walk yet without help.

“Bard? Elf?” he heard his uncle’s voice. “Where are you heading?”

Peeking outside one of the windows of the caravan, Kíli could make out the King of Dale and the Elf Prince on top of their own horses.

“Gandalf gave me a Letter from the Hobbits, their leader wishes to establish trade and also some wish to travel to Dale to help with the harvest,” Bard explained. “I decided it would be better for me to go to them first.”

“And I am visiting Rivendell,” Legolas stated. _Perhaps I’ll find that mysterious Elf there…_

He hadn’t told his Ada about the strange Elf that froze him to a tree, he didn’t wish for him to have any ill feelings towards her before he even had a chance to properly introduce her. If he found her that is, he hoped he would found her, that day had been burned into his mind and slowly driving him mad.

Of course, the Dwarves were only _so_ happy to be traveling near an Elf, but they wisely kept their mouths shut lest they find themselves locked back up in Mirkwood and miss Bilbo’s memorial.

********

Adamanta Took – burn Chubb – was a Hobbit lass few chose to mess with. The oldest and most experienced midwife in all of the Shire who had managed to bring up thirteen children of her own was not afraid to loosen up someone’s breeches when they got too big for them and did not hesitate to use her husband’s cane on those who acted like imbeciles.

She also insisted on being involved in all of her family’s deliveries, she delivered all of her grandchildren and even her great-grandchildren which was why she stood impatiently outside Bag End as soon as she heard word of Bilbo passing through Tuckborough. A child… somehow her grandson was carrying a child… trust her darling grandson to go against the very laws of nature, Belladonna must be cackling up with Yavanna right now.

Finally, she spotted the familiar massive horse coming across the Bywater Bridge. Bilbo on top with his two Big Folk daughters walking on either side, Adamanta sighed with relief. At least she could always count on those dearies to get things done. She also noticed Drogo Baggins was following them.

“So I was thinking to have a patch for ice skating,” Drogo suggested. “This winter is set to be warmer than usual but maybe, Losiel you could freeze us up something.”

“Certainly, I know the little ones would be delighted.”

“We’ll have to find a way to warm them up afterward,” Avalon added before turning to her Ada with an innocent smile that he wasn’t buying.

“You just want my hot cocoa,” Bilbo chided.

“I’m offering to share, aren’t I?”

Adamanta coughed to gain their attention.

“Hello, Grandma Adamanta!” Bilbo greeted happily.

“Hello, Bilbo. Now get down from there before you give me a heart attack and let me take a good look at you,” Adamanta told him and then noticing the many eyes and ears perking their way added. “Inside.”

Bilbo – with the aid of his children – climbed down from Solstice and followed his grandmother into his smial, and oh Yavanna how he missed it! His parent’s portraits on the wall, the familiar scent of peppermint that hung around his green door. _Why did_ _it smell like peppermint?_ Bilbo wondered, trying to dig into his memory. He felt like it was important but couldn’t remember, it just made his head hurt.

Adamanta walked to his bedroom and motioned for him to lie down. Lifting up his tonic there was no mistaking his condition. Still, he wasn’t large enough to give birth – however _that_ was supposed to happen! – Gently, ever so gently she felt around Bilbo’s belly; her grandson trying not to squirm away.

“I definitely feel a child…” she muttered in concentration.

“Just one?” Bilbo asked nervously.

“Just one so far,” his grandmother reassured. Carefully grabbing his bandaged hand and placing it on his stomach. “There’s the head right there, can you feel it?”

He could feel it, his baby, his baby was still so small but growing. Would it be a boy or a girl? Would it take after him or Thorin? Did it matter? What would he name it?

“Bilbo?”

“Sorry…” why was he crying?

“I’ll make sure to check on the babe’s progress every week, and we’ll need to discuss delivery eventually my dear.”

********

The arrived at Rivendell with little difficulty. The death of the Pale Orc was apparently enough to make his lesser kin retreat back to their darkened land, not that anyone was complaining. Lord Elrond didn’t even seem surprised to see them, truthfully he was fully aware of Gandalf’s plot, but wasn’t expecting Legolas or a Man to be accompanying them.

“Welcome, Company of Thorin Oakenshield; Prince Legolas,” he turned towards the unknown Man who snapped out of admiration of his surroundings.

“I am Bard.”

“King of Dale,” Legolas quickly added.

“Welcome to Rivendell,” So this was the Man King Thranduil had been sending him ravens about. “I assume you are all heading for the Shire?”

“How did you know?” Thorin asked suspiciously.

“I too received word of Bilbo’s celebrations, and my ward has some friends in the Shire he wishes to visit. I am preparing to leave in a few days.”

Of course, the Lord of Rivendell would be invited to Bilbo’s memorial. The Elven Lord had treated the Hobbit with nothing less than respect – more than Thorin or his company, save Bofur could claim – and he had seemed to know Bilbo’s children quite well. Thorin didn’t even have it in him to complain when the idea of traveling together with Elrond was brought up.

********

“Lord Elrond,” Legolas had sought him out the very next night.

“Prince Legolas,” Elrond greeted into his study. “If you came for more hangover cure for Thranduil I’m afraid he will have to suffer, the last shipment should have lasted him until the next age.”

“Certainly not, Ada took your threat to heart and is mindful of how much wine he consumes, much to his chagrin.”

Of course, that didn’t stop him from drinking so much after the battle that Legolas found him hanging off of Bard. Thank the Valar the King of Dale took it in good stride and spoke not a word of it since.

“I’m actually seeking a rather peculiar Elf and hoped you would have some knowledge of her.”

He went on to explain the mysterious pale Elf whom he saw in Mirkwood, all it took was a mere mention of ice for Elrond to know exactly whom he was seeking. He would have laughed if he had any less restraint, of course, the son of an overprotective Elf would be mated to the daughter – albeit not by blood – of an equally overprotective Hobbit. Neither of them compared to Galadriel when he first started courting Celebrían however.

“Perhaps you should follow me to the Shire; you might find who you are looking for.”

********

Losiel’s glare was definitely one that rivaled the fiercest rulers of Arda. Once, so long ago many would claim she could freeze a dragon with a mere stare. Yet, unfortunately, the Man at the end of her ire remained untouched. _How much trouble would I get into if I froze his hands to his groin?_ It would be hilarious; of course, Avalon would be very cross with her even if it was for her own good.

“Losiel,” Bilbo stepped out of his smial dressed in the comfy clothes Bell Gamgee brought him. “Where’s your sister?”

“In the Party Field, setting up some of the tents for your celebration,” Losiel grimaced as if she ate something foul. “With _Andrew_.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow and glanced down at the field, he couldn’t really make out anyone except for his daughter thanks to her height but there was another Big Folk down there whom he assumed was Andrew, but.

“Who’s Andrew?”

“Avalon’s latest fling, they met shortly before your departure. She thinks… he might be the one – not her One, she gave up that idea years ago – and has been much more serious about their courtship than the others.”

“And… you don’t like Andrew?” Bilbo asked, surprised. He would think Losiel would be overjoyed that her sister might have found someone who made her happy.

“He is not genuine, Ada. I fear he is only going to hurt her.”

His daughter was truly upset. He had not seen her like this since the one time she walked in on a drunken Avalon in some Blacksmith’s lap – fully clothed but said Blacksmith was obviously planning on changing that – it had been quite a disheartening experience having to explain to her that no, the Man was not Avalon’s One and yes, he did just abandon her in fear of an angry Hobbit. Elves only slept with those they loved, and the idea of anything less was inconceivable.

“Then he better hope he can run faster than you, Sweetheart.”

********

It was early morning when they finally arrived in the Shire. The sky full of pinks, oranges, and blues as little birds chirped and flew in search of breakfast, a fawn stared at them curiously before catching up with its mother.

“What a peaceful place,” Bard remarked. “No wonder the Hobbit’s keep to themselves.”

“Hobbits prefer comfort and simplicity over anything else,” Elrond told him, holding onto a half-asleep Estel. Perhaps they could have slept in a little longer but he did not wish the boy to be on the road for too long. “They see no point in war, and crimes are rather minor amongst them.”

The Company remained silent. Remembering their Burglar who always tried to use his wits before his blade and who saw no point in fighting over gold and jewels when there was plenty of both. Would he have stayed after everything that had happened, or would he have preferred his comfy Shire?

“Oh dear, oh dear…” a feminine voice mumbled ahead. A lone Hobbit stood at the base of a tall tree, staring up into its branches. The Hobbit suddenly turned at the sound of the horses and sped to meet them in the road. “Excuse me; can one of you Big Folk help me?”

“What troubles you Mistress Hobbit?” Bard asked.

“One of my children had been sleepwalking and somehow ended up in that tree there, now she’s too terrified to come down,” she stared down her very pregnant belly. “And I’m in no shape to go up after her.”

At the thought of any child in danger, the King of Dale was the first off his horse and immediately saw that the child was luckily on one of the lower branches. Though it was hardly a climb for him he couldn’t help but be impressed that such a little thing managed it in her sleep.

“Here we go, little one,” he gently grabbed the child and leaped down. Truly she was barely bigger than his own children the day they were born!

“It’s a baby Hobbit…” Fíli said mesmerized.

“They come in smaller sizes?” Kíli added.

“Well, did you think Hobbits were just born like this?” the Hobbit mother asked, motioning towards herself.

“Huh…” both heirs turned red and hid back in the caravan.

“Pay no mind to my nephews, they were dropped one too many times as children,” Thorin told her, alternating between looking at the baby and mother, the child seemed to have taken after its mother in both red hair and blue eyes.

“I can say the same for my husband’s family, utter nincompoops many of them,” she hoisted her daughter up. “Now, we don’t normally get many outsiders except for the Rangers and that wizard fellow, where are you heading?”

“We seek Obsidian Took at the Stone Oliphant.”

“What luck! I’m heading that way myself, the tavern is straight down the road in between Tuckborough and Hobbiton if you’d follow me.”

“Thank you, Mistress Hobbit.”

“My name’s Eglantine. Eglantine Took.”

********

The Stone Oliphant was unlike any other tavern or inn found in the Shire. It was massive and made out of dark wood and stone. A fountain with an Oliphant sculpture in the center rested outside its doors. Inside was lit by a warm hearth and the faint smell of freshly baked bread wavered through the air.

“Obsidian!” Eglantine called out. “You’ve got visitors!”

A crash sounded from behind the counter and a second Hobbit popped out rubbing her blonde head. She was taller than Eglantine in fact almost as tall as Dwalin.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “Welcome to the Stone Oliphant, how can I help you?”

“Obsidian Took?” Thorin came forward. “I am Thorin Oakenshield-”

“Oh! Yes, yes! You sent me a raven last month, goodness is it that time already? No matter we have rooms ready for thirteen Dwarves. We also have plenty of rooms for a Man, two Elves, and the little one too, not many people stay here except for the Rangers and your sons on occasion,” she turned towards Elrond with a smile. “They like to come when I make my chestnut pie; they think they’re so sneaky.”

“They never bring me any…” Estel pouted.

“You can have the first slice of my next one.”

“Yay!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: The next chapter will contain smut and the tags will update accordingly.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin wakes from a very naughty dream to find the subject still alive. But the Thain isn't just going to let a bunch of Dwarves run after his grandson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER!!!

_ It started out innocent. After their embrace on the Carrock Thorin found himself constantly needing to touch his burglar; a hand on his shoulder, a brush of fingers during meals, and that one time Thorin ruffled Bilbo’s hair only to brush against his ears and by Mahâl the sound that came from those lips… it took all of Thorin’s will power not to claim them in front of the Company and wizard._

_ After that could he really be blamed for his more inappropriate touches? Particularly grabbing Bilbo’s bum when everyone else was preoccupied, he did have a very nice bum; so ample and round and the little noises he made whenever Thorin groped it were delightful._

_ Thorin swore he would go no further until they reclaimed the mountain, where he could properly court Bilbo and explore his soft body in leisure upon soft furs. But then they reached Lake-town, and not all Men were as honorable as Bard. _

_ Most had returned the Hobbit’s courtesy with a hint of curiosity which was to be expected for few this far had even heard of Hobbits let along met one. But Thorin, as well as other members of the Company noticed the less than savory stares their burglar was receiving from some of the seedier men, especially the so-called Master. Nori had even told him about a comment on Bilbo looking almost like an Elf-child and wouldn’t that be fun? For once Thorin’s disgust had nothing to do with Elves._

_ It was not until the night before they would set out for the mountain did Thorin’s iron-clad will snap. It was a Man, one of the harmless ones except he liked to get a little too close, and the moment Thorin saw his hand reach out for that pointed, leaf-like ear he growled and pulled the Hobbit away towards their rooms not even caring if anyone saw them._

_ “Thorin!” Bilbo started, nearly tripping over his feet at the speed the Dwarf was moving. They did not stop until they reached the room they were sharing. “Thorin, seriously what is-”_

_ Bilbo found himself silenced by a hot mout_ _h while being pushed against the door. Thorin’s body caging him in while he slowly worked open his mouth and- by Yavanna he shouldn’t be getting this excited from a kiss!_

_ “Th-Thorin?” Bilbo breathed out; his face as red as one of Hamfast’s prized tomatoes._

_ “I despise how they look at you,” Thorin rumbled. “Like you are nothing but an exotic animal for them to ogle at.”_

_ “You’ve been doing your fair share of looking… and touching,” the smaller man reminded him._

_ “And I wish to touch you some more,” Thorin whispered into his ear, enjoying the shiver that resulted. “If you will allow me.”_

_ “Please…”_

_ Thorin pulled away and moved towards the bed, situating himself in the center of the spread while Bilbo quickly followed and straddled his lap. Their mouths connected again as Thorin groped Hobbit’s arse and pulled him impossibly closer, with a moan Bilbo allowed Thorin entrance. They took their time mapping out warm flesh underneath their clothes, Bilbo seemed particularly interested in the hard muscle of Thorin’s chest much to the Dwarf’s amusement._

_ Quickly the heir of Durin desired more and undid Bilbo’s belt and the laces on his trousers just enough to slip his hands inside and under his smallclothes, kneading the warm flesh and inciting a yelp. For a moment he simply took enjoyment in the sounds escaping his burglar’s mouth as he trembled against his chest, holding onto his shoulders as if his life depended on it, and then-._

_ “Thorin!” Bilbo whimpered, feeling a finger brush over his hole. “Are you going to…?”_

_ “If you’d have me,” he removed one hand to lift up Bilbo’s chin to face him. His eyes were nearly black from desire. “As much as I wish to take you upon this bed, one word from you and I will cease my actions.”_

_ “I…want you Thorin… but I’m afraid I’m not experienced with this… at all.”_

_ Thorin groaned and buried his face in his burglar’s neck. How could such a tempting creature be untouched? “If there is anything you find you do not like, let me know at once Bilbo. I will not push you further than you are willing.”_

_ And with that, he slowly removed the many layers of his burglar until only his smallclothes and that thin piece of cloth around his wrist remained before turning them around so that he laid on the bed with Thorin hovering over him. Bilbo turned his head, face crimson as the last piece of fabric covering his modesty was removed. Thorin bit back a moan in appreciation; while Bilbo was smaller than him he was still very well endowed._

_ “S-stop staring,” Bilbo chided, face red with embarrassment._

_ “My apologies,” replied Thorin though he didn’t sound sorry in the least. Taking Bilbo’s cock in his hand he leaned forward and captured his lips in a searing kiss before reaching for the bottle of oil on the table beside the bed. He paused, contemplating his next move before suddenly moving down between Bilbo’s legs and taking him in his mouth._

_ “TH-THORIN!” Bilbo arched his back and nearly spent himself right then in that hot – incredibly hot – mouth. Thorin continued his torturous ministrations until he felt Bilbo about to reach his end, and released him with a pop. “Please...”_

_ “Turn around, Âzyungâl,” he grabbed one of the pillows and positioned it underneath Bilbo’s hips. Taking a moment to knead the flesh that was presented to him, he drizzled a generous portion of oil on his fingers and teased the ring of muscle round Bilbo’s entrance before slowly inserting a single digit into the tight hole. Bilbo squirmed against the invasion and buried his face into the pillows with a groan. “Breathe and try to relax, I do not wish to hurt you.”_

_ Bilbo tried to follow his words, just one finger felt almost too much and he was left wondering how he was supposed to fit… that part inside him. He turned his head and gazed into Thorin’s darkened eyes as he meticulously worked him open; suddenly he brushed against a spot inside Bilbo and his vision was full of stars._

_ “Oh gods what was that?” he moaned, eyes nearly rolling back._

_ “That was your prostate,” Thorin chuckled into his ear. “All men have this hidden spot and it gives immense pleasure when stimulated. Believe me, Ghivashel, you will wish to experience it again and again.”_

_ To emphasize his point, he repeated brushed against that same spot causing Bilbo to moan his name and grip the bedspread so tight he was amazed he did not tear it. After several torturous minutes, Thorin added a second finger and some more oil._

_ “Thorin… wait,” the Hobbit managed to whisper and his lover obliged immediately. By Yavanna this was maddening! Too much yet not enough and his head spun with pleasure and pain he did not know what to think anymore._

_ Thorin gave him time to become accustomed to the new feeling, laying gentle kisses on his back and neck while reaching underneath and fondling with a very pert nipple that made Bilbo gasp and throw his head side to side._

_ “Such softness,” the Dwarf remarked. “So unlike us Dwarves.”_

_ After some time Thorin continued moving his fingers in and out of the tight channel, adding more and more oil until there was little resistance, by the time he added a third finger Bilbo was a trembling mess; his cock was sandwiched between the pillow and his stomach, and Thorin seemed to be aiming for that one spot inside him with every move._

_ “Thorin please…” he whimpered, glancing over his shoulder. “You are still wearing clothes, cruel Dwarf.”_

_ Thorin chuckled before undoing his belt, he decided to keep his tonic on to hide his mark, he already knew who his One was but now was not the time. He groaned as he removed his trousers and finally set free his neglected cock, which Bilbo stared at in wonder; Thorin was big, bigger than him and there was a… barbell pierced into the head. Filled with curiosity, he reached out and ran his fingertips over the large girth, paying particular attention to the little piece of metal when Thorin moaned appreciatively._

_ “Is there a purpose for this?” Bilbo asked, fascinated._

_ “Yes,” Thorin swatted his hand away and added with a smirk. “On your hands and knees, and I will show you.”_

_ Bilbo quickly obeyed and after coating his cock with the oil, Thorin lined himself with Bilbo’s entrance, slowly pushing pass the ring of muscle. Bilbo winced at the new intrusion but any discomfort was forgotten when that little barbell pushed against his prostate, and then Thorin, wishing to torture him further starting to nibble on his right ear._

_ “Oh gods!” he gasped, attempting to move away from the assault. “Thorin, please- n-not my ears!”_

_ “Can I make you come from this alone?” the Dwarf asked pinching the tip of the other ear and enjoying the desperate sounds coming from the Hobbit._

_ “Th-Thorin!”_

_ “Hmmm… tonight I will be merciful, Bilbo, but know I may not be able to resist such an experiment in the future.”_

_ And with that, he grasped Bilbo’s hips and started a maddening pace, reaching around he pumped the smaller man’s weeping penis in time with his thrusts spurred on by the delectable noises coming from Bilbo’s mouth. Thorin himself could already feel himself approaching the end, it’s been far too long since he even thought about any sort of intimacy; too focused on taking care of what remained of his family, but he refused to come before Bilbo, so timing his thrusts he gently bit down on his earlobe just as he pushed against his prostate._

_ With a scream Bilbo came, his semen coating Thorin’s hand and the bedspread in four quick spurts, and that was all it took for Thorin to join him, his own cum filling and leaking out of his spent hole. Pulling out with a groan, he let the Hobbit collapse into the bed in a shivering mess. Silently he went to the washstand and cleaned himself off before carefully cleaning the boneless mess that was currently Bilbo Baggins. _

_ After he reclaims the mountain he will properly court the Hobbit, nobody would dare argue with him on his choice of a consort and if they did he’d demand they go face a dragon and then maybe he’d take their idiocy into consideration._

********

Thorin woke with a groan. Why did he have to wake up? Why couldn’t he stay in his dreams and pretend reality was just a nightmare? When he attempted to roll over he realized how tight his trousers had gotten and with a frustrated sigh – because there was no way he could sleep like this – he awkwardly got out of bed to take care of his not so little problem.

Glancing outside his window it looked closer to noon which meant he managed to sleep an extra few hours after they settled in their rooms. He spotted the Hobbit named Eglantine Took talking to two others, one looked rather old and held a cane in his hand, the other was facing away and he was unable to make him or her out except for their copper curls that made him wince for they reminded him of someone else’s curls.

“Pervinca, don’t you dare get in that water!” Eglantine suddenly scolded, turning to her daughter who was one step away from diving into the fountain. “It’s far too cold for that!”

“But Mom…” the little girl whined.

“Now, Pervinca, you don’t want to catch a cold do you?” the mysterious Hobbit asked turning to the child and suddenly all the blood drained from both Thorin’s heads. “You’ll miss the party if that happens.”

“Okay, Uncle Bilbo…” Pervinca relented and stepped down from the stone.

“Bilbo?” Thorin called out, the Hobbit froze and he swore he caught his eye but then he turned to the old Hobbit.

Bilbo… Bilbo… how many Hobbits had that name? How many Hobbits had that _face_? How was it possible? Was it a trick? Was Mahâl tormenting him for his past actions? What was he still doing there?! He needed to get to Bilbo!

“Uncle?” Fíli questioned with a mouth full of eggs and ham, startled to see him practically run down the stairs.

“I saw Bilbo,” was his only reply.

His Company stared at him in bewilderment, no doubt questioning his sanity. Bilbo was dead… Bilbo was dead yet he saw him with his own eyes and he would swear his crown on it!

“Oh,” Obsidian came around with a tray full of what looked little bowls of bacon full of egg and cheese. “You saw my cousin, did you? I’ve been meaning to ask him about his breakfast muffins, I can never get mine right.”

“Bilbo is a… common name here isn’t it?” Bofur asked uneasily.

“Nope, only one Bilbo in the Shire and that would Bilbo Baggins- hey where are you going?”

The whole Company bolted from the tavern. Bilbo was alive? Bilbo was alive!

“Goodness gracious!” Eglantine exclaimed. She stood in the same spot Thorin spotted her earlier but Bilbo was nowhere to be seen.

“Mistress Eglantine, where is Bilbo Baggins?” Thorin asked desperately. “I saw him out my window just now and I must speak to him at once!”

“You just missed him I’m afraid. The poor thing seemed rather pale and went back home to Bag End.”

  
“We should follow him!” said Fíli as he just exited the tavern with Kíli and Bofur at his side. He now sported a nasty bruise on his face from attempting to leave without his crutches.

“Now hold it right there lads,” started the old Hobbit. “What is your business with Bilbo?”

“Our business is none of yours Master Hobbit,” Thorin told him sternly, he had no time for this; he needed to get to Bilbo! “So please step aside-”

A loud and painful thump surprised the Dwarves; Thorin stood dazed and confused clutching his head; the old Hobbit welding his cane like a hammer and staring at the Dwarf King sternly.

“Is this a bad time?” Bard asked nervously, only just stepping out when told the Hobbit he was supposed to meet had arrived.

“I’ll get right to you in a moment,” Gerontius assured before turning back to the Dwarf in front of him. “Now listen here, lad. I did not get to be the oldest Thain in Shire history because of my good looks no matter what some might say, and an outsider seeking any of my kinfolk is most definitely my business!”

He trusted Gandalf; probably more than he should but he went along with his friends plot up to this point, which was why he brought Bilbo to the Stone Oliphant under the guise of seeing his cousin. But even his old eyes picked up on how his grandson flinched and paled when he noticed a particular Dwarf staying in the tavern. He wasn’t about to just sic thirteen Dwarves on the poor boy until he knew exactly what was going on.

Balin – ever the diplomat – was first to recover and immediately went to save his King from any foolishness he might cause.

“Gerontius Took, I presume? We are the Company of Thorin Oakenshield; and friends of Bilbo Baggins. We came for his celebration but it seems we misunderstood its meaning.”

“Aye, we thought the lad dead we did!” Bofur exclaimed. “We thought we were coming to his memorial!”

“Dead? Memorial?” Gerontius repeated confused. Was that what his letter sounded like? He’d be sure to whack Gandalf over the head for it later. “I assure you lads Bilbo is in good health, though I will say his condition is quite odd.”

“Condition?” Óin asked. What has happened to their Burglar?

“It’s a personal matter that I will leave to Bilbo to announce if he desires. However,” he glanced around them suspiciously. “I have a funny feeling one of you is responsible, pry tell would either of you have a mark like an acorn shield?”

All the Dwarves turned towards their king who slowly pulled down his tonic to reveal an acorn shield over his fast-beating heart.

“I see,” Gerontius said sagely nodding to himself. “Well, like with all my family I wish to see Bilbo happy so I guess I should let you go and straighten things out then right? Just promise me one thing, Master Dwarf.”

“What?”

“Don’t. You. Dare. Hurt. My. Grandson.”

And with that, he merrily left the Dwarf King and made his way to the tavern where an uncomfortable King of Dale stood.

“And you must be Bard then? Excellent! A lot of my more adventurous kinfolk have been talking nonstop since Dale’s reclamation reached Bree!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smut entirely belongs to my friend except for a few minor changes. Because this has been a problem in the past I'm going to say it now, dubcon is not and should not be the standard, consent is sexy as fuck okay?
> 
> The next chapter might be late.


End file.
